


Captured

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chains, Crying, Deepthroating, F/M, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Graphic Description, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Rape, Rape Recovery, Restraints, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Prompt: Craig!Bond/Dench!M, voyeur!Silva (non or dub-con). Having captured both Bond and M, Silva has them put on a show for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captured

**Author's Note:**

> These warnings are not to be taken lightly.

“Suck him,” Silva orders.

She's got a spreader bar keeping her calves apart and on her knees at James' feet and her hands are tied behind her back. Silva has James tied to a chair—“for old times' sake”—and had taken much pleasure in yanking his trousers down and plumping his cock up just to orchestrate this moment. Her only saving grace is that she's still mostly clothed, although her panties have been in his back pocket since this whole mess started.

Silva's been touching himself through his slacks since they started this. It had begun as kisses and coerced caresses, and had quickly progressed to this. Silva had held her down by her shoulders after grabbing her panties while two of his men attached a black bar to her legs. Bond had taken more effort to keep down, but eventually they had beaten him into submission.

And now...

Bond is deliberately not looking at her, and she's not sure if that makes it better or worse. She can't even touch him. He's keeping his fists at his side. His hands aren't tied; the chain around his ankles and his middle is doing its job just fine.

Silva cocks his gun.

“Do not make me ask you again.”

M gives a shudder and inches closer in between his spread thighs. She takes one more second to look at him, hoping he will meet her eyes. He doesn't. 

He doesn't want to look at her and see the betrayed look in her eyes. The look that tells him he's failed her and allowed her to humiliate herself in front of someone who's held a grudge against her for fifteen years. James doesn't want to shame her for what she is being forced to do, and he mentally berates himself for getting hard anyway.

Her mouth descends on him slowly and soon the head of his cock is fully in her mouth, and James is fighting not to thrust. She pulls back to lick him but since she can't use her hands, she ends up having to chase his cock with her tongue. It's utterly humiliating, and she lets out an despairing huff of frustration.

Silva tsks. He cannot believe the way her favorite agent is treating her.

“Help her, James. You're the one whose hands are free.”

He unclenches a hand and holds his cock steady for her to blow. She looks up at him again. M couldn't bear it if he denied her a second time. He finally meets her eyes. He has to; her eyes have been burning into him the whole time. There's no chance for conversation, so she resumes her previous activity. He doesn't look away, and she's glad she has something else to focus on besides the task of being forced upon one of her agents. His eyes have always been quite something to look at, and that is true even now.

“I'm sorry, M. This was never supposed to happen,” he apologizes. “You were never meant to get involved.”

Silva interrupts, his own breath hitching as he watches.

“Take him deeper. You and I both know you can do much better than that.”

She pulls off him to breathe deeply and plunges down. She cries silently into his lap when she chokes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chokes. “M.”

His other hand comes up to stroke her cheek, her hair, her neck. It's not possessive or controlling or domineering. It's the only small comfort he can manage as her throat flutters around him. The wet heat of her mouth is so hard to resist and the thought makes him want to vomit. He wishes there was something he could do to make this stop. She's not supposed to be hurt; that's his job. He's the one who signed up for this. 

She bobs her head, and he nearly loses it. He fights the good feelings as much as he can.

“Silva, it's me you want and me you've got. She doesn't deserve this. If you ever truly loved her, you'd let her go.”

This only serves to anger him.

“Did _I_ deserve my torture, James? Did she come to save me and 'let me go?' No, James. She knows what she did and why she is here.”

James grunts in pleasurable agony, furious that Silva won't relent even for her. M gags on his cock. She pulls off to catch her breath again. Tears flow freely from her eyes, and spit and precome has made her lips and chin shiny. He looks away from Silva to offer his sleeve to her and quietly asks if she's alright. She waves him off with a shake her head and tries to gather herself as she rests her head against his knee. He puts a protective hand over the side of her head, blocking her if only partially from their captor. M's skin is silky-soft to the touch, and he's sorry he had to find that out like this. He looks back to Silva when he begins speaking again.

“And you, James, are here because you replaced me. I was decommissioned and not three years later she is fawning over you. I am simply giving you both what you deserve: each other. You see, you are perfect together. She hurts you and hurts you and hurts you, and yet you continue to go back for more, just as I once did. So enjoy this. It's what you've always wanted.”

M shifts on her knees and gasps in pain. She's been on the floor for far too long. The bar doesn't allow for much movement.

“Goddamn it, she can't take much more of this, you bastard.”

M snaps back upright at his words. If there was ever a way to light a fire under her, it was telling her that she couldn't do something, especially on a mission.

“Oh no, James,” she says with a bit of a rasp. “Why don't we show Mr. Silva how it's done?”

James is shocked at her words. “M, you don't have to play his game anymore.”

“Yes I do. You're my agent. It's my job to protect you, is it not?”

She knows she sounds much braver than she feels, but she knows Tiago's game. He wants to humiliate them, and it will only increase his satisfaction if they resist.

Over her shoulder, she says to Silva, “He's obviously not getting any action, so he has to kidnap old women and young men to satisfy his fetishes.”

She ignores Silva's warning hum, and turns back to face James.

“Do you trust me?”

“M, don't—”

“ _Do you trust me_?”

“Yes.”

She slowly lowers her mouth back down on him, and he takes hold of himself again. She takes him down deep, until her nose touches his tensed stomach. She pulls back then and begins bobbing on him. It would be so much easier if she had her hands. But then that would defeat Silva's point.

For all that Silva plays at being a homosexual, she knows from personal observation that that is not the case. He uses sex as a weapon. To him, it is a great insult to be on the receiving end of it. And while she is already panicking a bit on the inside from all of this, she can only be relieved that it's Bond. She trusts him with her life, and she knows he feels the same. She was greatly reassured when he reaffirmed this belief. But no matter which way she rationalizes it in her head, M knows the only way this game will end is if she gets him to come. Which is going to take a while if Bond keeps fighting it. 

She lets him fall from her mouth to speak to him.

“Take. the. bloody. shot,” she pants.

Her jaw and knees hurt like a bitch and her hands tied behind her back are going numb. She's seventy-eight years old, but for Christ's sake, now is not the time to be the gentleman. There will be time for kindness and consideration after when her mind has the ability to catch up with her body and the worry really sets in. She's operating on adrenalin now, and Bond needs to take advantage of that while it's there. 

“Don't make me beg, James,” M says quietly, looking up at him imploringly.

This needs to end.

James' eyes gaze into hers with a white-hot intensity she's seen only a few rare times. Usually in moments of great agony and loss or when he's done something he profoundly regrets. It is then that M knows he has made up his mind on this, and she braces herself for the consequences.

“It is now or never, darlings,” Silva huffs, looking as though he was nearing his own completion.

His terrible words spur James into action, for better or worse.

Large hands hold the sides of her face and rapidly pull her down. He hits the back of her throat accompanied by star-bursts of pain. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays it will be over soon...

*****

She doesn't see James for almost a month, and she's not sure if it's better that way. He disappeared as soon as Mallory had been debriefed. Their rescue team had locked him up at base, but rumor had it—and on good authority—that Bond had slowly finished him off in his cell. It looked as though it could have been a suicide, except for the indentations of certain pair of cuff links in his neck when someone had finally cut his body down. If anyone suspected or knew for certain, no one said anything about it. Even so, she’s been to her doctor every day since, worrying and sobbing because though she knows her true rapist is dead, she is unable to shake this fear that grips her with Bond gone missing.

When M gets home from work that evening, she's almost hoping James will be there waiting for her. She just wants to see him to know for herself that he's alright. She wouldn't be able to bear it if he had taken his own life after taking Silva's. She just needs to know she's not alone in feeling like this. M is nearly thrilled when she hears ice clink in a glass when she sets her coat down.

“James,” she breaths, spinning around to see him.

She flips on a light and finds him sitting at a dining room table with a half-empty bottle and a glass of ice. He looks haggard, but he's here with her now and that's all that matters. His eyes are wet, and she feels a lump forming in her throat at the sight.

“You had me worried sick. I thought. I thought...”

M trails off when her own tears flow, choking her with the sheer volume of them. She had thought she had cried herself dry days ago. Immediately he jumps up and moves to put his arms around her, but stops short. He wants nothing more than to comfort her, but he fears touching her.

“Oh don't be a fool,” she says tearfully and grabs his middle to show him that his arms are welcome around her.

James holds her tightly close to him, afraid to let go. He can't stand the thought of something hurting her, and he's sick at the thought of what he had done to her.

“M, I'm so sorry. I swear to you that I will spend the rest of my life fixing this. I'll do anything for you, M. You mean more to me than my own life.”

She sobs into his jacket because she knows it's true. Silva had tried to take this away from them, but he was so blinded by his hatred that he forgot how strong love and loyalty really are. He never truly understood the bond that held her and James together. There was a huge tear through the center of them, but they were good at picking up pieces and making something new from the ashes of what once was.

M doesn't know exactly how long they stand like that, comforted by the beat of the other's heart and the warmth from their arms. It's small, but it's a start. And for now, that's all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I wrote dark!fic again. What is up with _that_?


End file.
